Harry Potter and the Stone of Emerald Fire
by darkmarkgirl
Summary: Harry's in his 7th year. While he hunts for the horcurxes, what's this strange and unusal power that is starting to show in harry? Why does Voldemort want it so much? And where do Snape and Draco fit in to all this? Review please!
1. The Unwelcome Guest

Harry Potter and the Stone of Emerald Fire

By: Darkmarkgirl

Summary:Follows Cannon Harry's 7th year. While Harry hunts for the Horcruxes, there are other powers at play. What really is the 'power that the dark lord knows not?' And what do Snape and Malfoy have to do with anything?

Rating:T (for now) Fighting sequences, language, mild blood, I don't really know yet.

Pairings:HPGW, RWHG, yeah…canon based. No slash.

Disclaimer: I don't know why people even bother with these. I don't own Harry Potter. Why would I be on here if I did? I would be relaxing in a hot tub with people serving me food and buying myself a nice, fancy car:P

Chapter 1: The Unwelcome Guest

Batches of sun-golden leaves swirled around the depths of Spinner's End. The chestnut oaks from which they came from leaned ever so slightly forward in their wake, shadowing the newly embedded carpet of the cobblestone floor.

Spinner's End was lit softly with only a few streetlamps, reflecting their light onto the leaves like fireflies, giving the newly liberated leaves a soft and eerie glow.

The wind rustled, swaying the trees ever so slightly. A few more leaves shook and fell to the ground, making a soft rustle as they gently caught the ground and covered up their processors.

The harsh, dark night sky helped illuminate the glowing silver crescent moon, watching over the cobblestone street. An eerie, almost mythical light cast over the streets, giving them a foreboding look.

From the depths of Spinners end bounded out a man, closely followed by a boy. They sprinted up the lengths of Spinners end, scattering the leaves and disrupting the almost evil quiet of the street. The lamplights flickered ever so softly in the distance, crafting the two people's shadows. At last they came to a stop at the top of Spinner's End, panting for breath. Softly the scattered leaves drifted up and down again, making a loose mold against the folds of their robes.

Both men had looks of a lost battle. One, with filthy raven hair that came down to his shoulders, had a cracked lip and a torn hole in his robe. His beady eyes, that were as cold as the night sky above, swam from side to side, anxiously inspecting the street. Once their inspection had been done, his rough, scratchy voice laced with oil protruded from the hood above his head.

"It is safe, Draco."

The shorter figure, which had not had been as noticeable as the other took of his hood. His platinum blonde hair shone in the silver moonlight, making his face for a moment look radiant. The radiance was shattered like glass as the pale and pointed face protruded from under the hood. As he lifted his head up, one could see the look of despair and disappointment on his face. Long dried tears wet his face; his wide, aquamarine orbs were open and scared as he faced the man before him. The man grabbed him by the back and led him further up Spinner's End, eventually coming to a halt at a small insignificant shack at the very end of the lane.

"Inside! Quickly!"

"I thought—" the blonde began, but the other man only shoved him further.

"No time!" he snarled. "Inside!"

The blonde was pushed inside, and he got his first look of Severus Snape's house.

His first impression was that it looked rather like a very old library. Shelves and shelves of books lined the peeling walls; old, dumpy furniture sat in the middle, accompanied by rusty glasses, one of which was shattered, and a winding staircase lead up to a place unknown. Draco had barley time to take in his surroundings when Snape's rough, calloused hand pushed him into a chair. This greasy figure loomed over him in a bat like manner, so the only thing he could see was the deranged, mad face and smell his whisky infested breath.

"Now you listen," Snape snarled, grabbing the hem of his robes and pulling him up so they were eye to eye. "The Dark Lord will no doubt be wondering where you are. He has three witnesses who will tell him what you have done, _or not done,_"he sneered, giving Draco a little shake.

"And no doubt he will be inclined to kill you and your family. The choice must be yours: either run, or face the Dark Lord. If you choose to return to him, I fear he will not be merciful. I will give you one suggestion: if you choose to return, offer him something. Or offer your services in some other way that you will not fail. Draco, if you cannot kill, you cannot be a death eater."

"But that was unfair!" Draco sputtered, making to get up, but Snape blocked him, still glaring at him. "How could I kill Dumbledore? I've never killed anyone before."

"Listen to me," growled Snape, tightening his grip on the front of Draco's robes. "I took the Unbreakable Vow. My duty is to protect you. If you go back to the Dark Lord, you will most likely die. If you choose to flee, I can protect you. I will not lie to the Dark Lord, but-"Snape's grip tightened convulsively- "I will do my best. If I die, so be it."

Draco stared at him, his white face growing paler by the second.

"What can I do for him, so he will accept me back?" he finally asked, his voice trembling. Snape's gaze cut through him, and Draco lowered his eyes to the floor. After a long silence, Snape spoke, more softly, and carefully.

"What, Draco, do you think the Dark Lord wants most right now?"

"Ummm…..immortality?"

"No, idiot boy!" Snape snarled. He let go of Draco and began pacing, but did not break eye contact. "Did you not pay attention in the last meeting? To reach immortality, he needs—"

But he was cut off by a sudden knock at the door. Their eyes bored into each other, meeting a sudden understanding. For Draco knew what he must do, and if he failed, all would be lost for him. And so did Snape.

Their was a pause of the knocking, in which Draco and Snape stared at each other, their robes flapping with the wind that was sweeping into the room. The trees shook furiously, leaves blew over them, matting their hair. Through all this, they never broke eye contact.

"Draco," Snape spoke, in a cold, quiet voice, "You are now the Receiver."

Draco nodded. In the same second, the door blasted in, landing in the pile of blowing books and leaves. The house creaked with the force of all the wind, emitting a not-so welcome guest. His cloak was a fiery red, torn by the wind, being batted by the leaves, which were all swirling around the now empty house in Spinner's End.

Through it all, one last golden leaf drifted down from the oak tree, cast in shadow, its once beautiful reflection forgotten, embedded in darkness.


	2. Raspberry Wrappers

Chapter 2: Raspberry Wrappers

"_he will have the power that the Dark Lord knows not…"_

The steaming, scarlet Hogwarts Express was beckoning the students of Hogwarts. People were saying their goodbyes, promising to write, hoping that the dreadful rumors were not true, that the school would close.

Harry was watching the train from a distance, leaning against the tree in which he, Ron, and Hermione had hung out under in happier times. Right now though, all thoughts of a normal life had been completely obliterated from his brain. Harry supposed it must have always been there, the dark cloud he felt now hanging over him, reminding him or his destiny.

And what was his destiny? Was his sole purpose, the reason he had been born in Godric's Hollow thirteen years ago, was to destroy Voldemort? And how was he supposed to do it, anyway? He had to admit he was lucky to escape Voldemort what was it- 5 times, now. And every time he had nearly lost his life. Voldemort was a lot stronger than him.

This led his mind into playing back onto the last bit of the prophecy. "With the power that the Dark Lord knows not…" What else had Dumbledore been keeping from him? Was the power- just- love? Harry amused himself for a moment, picturing himself going up to Voldemort and saying, "I love you! Now will you die?" That would go well.

And the Horcruxes. Harry doubted very much that destroying them would be a piece of cake. The ring had given Dumbledore a lasting injury. The diary had possessed Ginny. And the fake horcrux-Harry didn't want to think about that.

But the prophecy wouldn't have named him if he was the one who could defeat Voldemort, right? A part of him wished that Neville was the prophecy named. Then he could live his life out, normally, like any other witch or wizard could.

He tightened his grip on the fake Horcrux, which swung around his neck. As the wind lifted it, it shifted back and forth, in an eerie and monotone way. His fingers bit into the hard metal of the talisman, but leaving no mark.

Harry felt that it was the beginning of a very long and perilous journey. The last golden sun had long since set over the horizon. He was on his own now, destined to fight his way to destroy every piece of Voldemort's soul, to kill off the traitor Severus Snape, and vanquish the Dark Lord. Somehow he had always known he would have to face his destiny someday. He had never felt so alone, the sides of his horrible and possibly impossible tasks pressing on to him. This, he knew, would be the final fight. Either he would take down Voldemort or die trying. There was no alternative.

"Harry!" a loud voice interrupted, cutting through his muse. "Are you coming?"

Harry looked up at the steaming scarlet engine in front of him. Briefly through the haze he could see the faint outline of Hogwarts. Its pillars stood as tall and magnificently as ever, the spiraling rooftops just poking through the tufts of clouds. Bright sunlight reflected off the lake, creeping up the branches of the Whomping Willow and making them shine gold. Harry remembered the adventure he and Ron had had smashing into the Willow, and the damaged car that had resulted afterwards.

For the first time in days, Harry smiled.

"Let's go."

And with one last glance at the only place he called home, now standing abandoned in the sunlight, he swept onto the train and they were off.

To Harry's great surprise, there was Uncle Vernon waiting for them at King's cross, grumpy, angry, but nevertheless, there. Harry had thought that maybe Dumbledore's warning at the beginning of last year might have headed them off. Even so, he was almost glad to see his uncle standing there. It would save them a lot of trouble.

Ron and Hermione stood unsurely around him. Ron glared at Uncle Vernon, who glared right back. Obviously the two of them hadn't forgotten Ron's visits to Number Four.

"Uncle Vernon," Harry started, "These are my friends, Ron and Hermione. They'll be staying with us for awhile."

"What?" said Uncle Vernon rather rudely, but Harry continued on.

"As Professor Dumbledore told you-I'll have to stay here until my 17th birthday," Harry continued on, his words sticking slightly in his throat. Uncle Vernon glared at them, but (amazingly) seemed too had worked his answer out before hand.

"All right," he despairingly agreed, heading towards the car, "they can stay."

Harry watched Uncle Vernon for a few moments. Then he turned to Ron and Hermione.

"If you don't want to come—"

"Coming," said Ron firmly.

"You can't shake us off that easily, Harry," said Hermione, giving him a stern look. "Let's go, before he pulls off."

"Right," said Harry vaguely, staring in the direction of Ginny. "You two go. I'll be a minute."

"C'mon, Ron," said Hermione, understanding, pulling a red-faced Ron towards Uncle Vernon's blue sedan.

Ginny was standing alone, apparently absorbed in the barrier between King's Cross and Platform 9 and ¾. A warm feeling seemed to grow in his heart, seeing her there. Hot, burning passion flew with a thrill through him. She was standing, with her back towards him, her rose-pink fingers softly tracing the grooves on the wall. Harry felt a twinge of guilt in his gut seeing her like that. "_You did it for a good reason," _he told himself sternly, wavering slightly with the urge to go over and confront her. _"She'll be hurt, killed, or worse! Ginny will understand. She'll get over it evenly. Maybe she'll get back together with Dean—" _

Pushing down the roaring river of anger that was flooding inside him, he walked after Ron and Hermione. As he disappeared, Ginny looked up at last, her tearstained face shining with the light of the golden sun.

Only when he'd reached the car was when Harry wondered whether King's Cross would ever look the same for him again.

"_50 killed?" _Echoed Ron, slamming the _Daily Prophet _down with a loud BANG!

"With the way things have been going, I'm surprised there's not more," said Hermione grimly.

They were all sitting in Harry's bedroom. Wrappers and dirty plates littered the floor, and a large crumb from Aunt Petunia's cooking. In the corner, Harry saw an infinitesimal mouse scourging for food. Harry doubted he'd get very far. Since Ron and Hermione were both of age and able to do magic, (not that the Dursleys knew), they were able to fend for themselves. Hermione was quite efficient in cleaning spells, and Harry's messy bedroom was now one to rival Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's.

"Ron!" Hermione screeched suddenly, making him jump. "Do not belch! That is disgusting!"

"Oh, shut up, Hermione," said Ron on a yawn, throwing the rapper of a raspberry crumble aside.

"Just because you're a male doesn't mean I have to like your habits!" Hermione shouted, getting up. She was red-faced and furious, her bushy brown hair fanned out like a broom. "I'm taking a shower!"

"Do that, then!" Ron bellowed back, angrily snatching up another raspberry bar. The door slammed with a loud bang. Harry felt a hint of satisfaction at Uncle Vernon's annoyed grunt. Harry knew very well that the only reason they were putting up with Ron and Hermione was because soon he would be out of their house forever, and if it meant cooperating with Harry, so be it. He was only to glad they were behaving, because if Dudley mentioned anything about Harry's childhood, he didn't know what he would do.

In fact, Harry hadn't seen head or tail of his cousin since they'd got here, which was about a few weeks ago. Nor had the remaining Dursleys brought up the subject. Harry wasn't keen to ask them, but his apparent evaporation had left him a bit confused. Since when would Aunt Petunia let him out of her sight? Dudley was spoiled and pampered by his fussy mother endlessly, why would she simply accept his disappearance? Or had something happened?

Ron was still fuming in the corner, crushing the wrappers into tiny bits.

"Why," he asked Harry, who assumed he was not supposed to answer, "Are girls so annoying? What does it matter to her if I don't take a shower every day?"

Harry, remaining silent, continued to watch the mouse. It scurried under a crack and came out a few seconds later, triumphantly clutching a small ball of cheese in its tiny paws. Harry could have sworn it cast him a toothy grin.

"I mean, we've been friends forever," said Ron, throwing the wrapper into the same corner the mouse was enjoying its treat in. It squeaked and fled under Harry's desk. "Why does it matter to her now? And what's with her temper, anyway? I mean—"he showed Harry his hand, where triangular scars marred it every few centimeters- "what happened last year?"

Judging from Ron's dumbfounded expression; Harry decided he would have to lay it out right in front of him.

"Ron," said Harry, choosing his words carefully, so not to disrupt his friend's immature emotional balance, "I think she fancies you."

Ron looked like he'd been slapped in the face. Dazed, he swung his face around to meet Harry's.

"What?"

"She. Likes. You." Said Harry, very slowly. "And. You. Like. Her. Too."

"I do not!" said Ron, his face turning redder and redder by the second, but Harry continued on.

"It's so obvious, Ron." said Harry, watching warily as Ron's hands curled into fists. "The whole school knows. You've fancied each other forever."

"NO I DON'T!" yelled Ron, his face magenta. A large fist swung out of nowhere, nearly colliding with the side of his head. Harry quickly ducked out of the way, but he needn't have bothered. Ron's aim wasn't that good when he was angry.

"It's alright, Ron," said Harry quietly. He didn't know if Ron was denying his feelings towards Hermione because he didn't want to loose their friendship, or he was embarrassed. "You can tell me."

Ron was still shaking, but his face was pale now, instead of purple. He clutched his hair, and strode over to the corner. Neither of them spoke. Harry watched, partly in amusement, as Ron worked it out. Finally he turned towards Harry.

"You're right, mate," he croaked. "I do like her. A lot."

"Really?" said Harry sarcastically, still stung by the punch.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron muttered, putting his head into his hands. For a few seconds all Harry could see was the crop of red hair topping Ron's head. "But what if she doesn't like me? What should I do?"

Harry didn't have much more girl experience than Ron, but decided to try and help him all the same.

"You should apologize to her," he suggested. "Say you were a prat, and you'll like to make up. Then ask her to dance, maybe?"

"Bill and Fleur's wedding!" Ron breathed, running his hands over his face as if to check that it was still intact. "You're right!"

Just then, Hermione flounced in, a towel in her hair, and in a bright pink bathrobe. Ron flushed as deep as the bathrobe as he observed her. Harry was having a hard time keeping from smirking.

"Hello, boys," she said in a suave, calmly voice. "I'm off to bed, do you think?

She grabbed an overstuffed flowery bag from her bedside and headed out the door again. Ron and Harry stared at each other in perplexity.

"Girls are weird, aren't they?" Ron said in bewilderment.

"Right you are," said Harry, and almost automatically, his thoughts turned to Ginny. Hermione came back in after an half an hour, (Ron didn't comment on her lateness for once,) and they all got in their beds. Harry leaned over to blow out the candle. He was slightly awestruck with its beauty, mounds of thick hot wax layered over the side in drips, getting longer and longer as they poured down its sides. For a moment, Harry thought he saw Ginny's pale, beautiful face dancing in the light. But she was sad. Her long red hair was plated down both sides of her face, and she was looking at a picture.

His picture…he recognized himself, standing on her left, an arm thrown around her shoulder, smiling happily. Ginny's face was ardent, gleaming in the sunlight. Then, as suddenly as it had came, the picture faded.

Watching as the last wisps swirled and dissolved into nothingness; Harry snuggled deeper into his woolen blankets, and fell asleep.

A/N: No action, here, I know. Next chapter: Harry leaves the Dursleys (for good,) finds out a little clue about his cousin, and receives something from one very mysterious Lily Potter that may change his life forever. Please tell me what you think! Comments and suggestions are much appreciated.

Hands out cyber cookies Yum. Now I want some.


	3. The Silver Stone

Chapter 3- The Silver Stone.

_Sorry this chapter's so late-finals are coming up and I've had to work hard. Hope you like!_

It was early the next morning when Harry, Ron and Hermione arose and went down to breakfast. The sun was still glowing crimson in the sky, peaking just above its blankets of clouds. Yawning, they entered the kitchen. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were already sitting at the table, eating. They didn't look up when they entered. Aunt Petunia was staring blankly out the window, but for once she didn't seem interested in the neighbors. Uncle Vernon was tossing his greasy bacon with his fork, apparently uninterested.

Ron and Hermione looked more taken aback at their complete dismissal of their entrance than their unusual behavior. Of course, Harry being living with the Dursleys for nearly seventeen years knew them better.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," said Hermione politely as they entered the room, but with an air of bitterness. Harry had to feel proud of Hermione for attempting conversation, but Uncle Vernon only made a loud grunt and continued picking at his bacon. Hermione glanced at Harry, whose face remained confused. Why were the Dursleys acting this way? Since when would his uncle refuse food and his aunt have no concern in the neighbors?

They all helped themselves to toast and sat down at the table. The Dursleys didn't even look up. It was when Harry had familiarized himself with his dining experience was when he realized there was a lot more room at the table than usual. '_Of course!'_ thought Harry, mentally berating himself for his stupidity. _'It must be Dudley they are worried about! Why didn't I notice before?' _

Nonchalantly, Harry cast a glance around the table. Hermione and Ron were sitting there, completely astounded with the Dursley's cool behavior. However, the Dursleys were in the same positions as before, their eyes blank and empty. Regularly Harry did not try to indulge in conversation with his relatives. Something had come over him, a bad feeling that had him itching for answers.

Knowing that he would regret this later, Harry cleared his throat loudly and said, "Aunt Petunia?"

Her head turned so quickly and sharply that Harry started. It was like she hadn't even noticed he was there. He watched as her features relaxed, her hair become de-frizzed. Her tired eyes were masked with lines, her cheeks more boney than usual, and her clothes un-ironed. When she turned to him, her face became full of both fear and a strange tranquility.

"What is it?" she asked softly, so softly that if Harry hadn't been listening hard, he wouldn't have heard. Sympathy rose so quickly and unexpectantly in him that his heart leapt. He hadn't felt this way about her since years ago, when he was still young and naïve about the way his relatives felt about him.

"Where is Dudley?" Harry asked, but, unwillingly some of the hatred for his cousin crept into his voice, peeling away the edges of his sympathy for her so his words came across harshly.

Her eyes changed faster than a blink of an eye. What was once sadness was now anger and bitterness, and she looked away from him.

"None of your business."

"Why won't you tell me?" Harry asked, ignoring Ron and Hermione's shocked and angry faces.

"I told you! Diddyums is away somewhere that is none of your concern! Now don't ask questions!"

His aunt's voice caught in her throat as she said these words that had been drilled into Harry's mind since he was old enough to understand them. Her wide auburn eyes flickered towards him and stared into his…

Lily's eyes…

Aunt Petunia got up so quickly from the table she nearly unsettled the table. Uncle Vernon didn't look up as the dishes slid down, but simply continued staring at the table.

"Excuse me," she choked, tearing her gaze from him, and she fled the room.

Continuing to ignore Ron and Hermione's stares, Harry stood up as well.

"I've got to go after her," he announced, and raced from the room, leaving the distraught figure of Uncle Vernon basked in sunlight, and his two best friends staring sadly at him.

Harry found her standing next to the stairs. His old cupboard, in fact. Aunt Petunia was facing them. She had her head in her hands and was slowly shaking her head back and forth.

Not knowing what to do, Harry slowly approached her.

"Aunt Petunia?"

His aunt didn't turn around, but Harry heard the voice coming out of her broom of rumpled hair all the same.

"I wish we'd never put you in there."

Harry stared at her, stopping in mid-step. He felt uncertain and confused. A new feeling was growing inside of him that he had never felt before. She continued on, taking very rapid, deep breaths.

"I-I always hated Lily. And magic. Every year I'd come home with top marks, yet it was Lily who got all the attention." Her voice turned bitter. "Mum and Dad always fawned over Lily; it was she who was their favorite child. For them, it was a miracle to have a witch for a daughter. I being a normal and studious student made no difference to them. Always I was reminded how lucky we were. Always I stood in the shadows, watching while Lily was pampered and spoiled, loved for her beautiful gift."

Aunt Petunia looked the same way she did the night Harry had learned he was a wizard, as if taking a burden off her shoulders. She took a deep breath and continued on.

"But Lily never ravished in all the attention. I thought she would, but she did not. She treated me as her equal, even though I didn't have a drop of magical blood in me, she still loved me. We were close than you could imagine. We told each other secrets. We shopped together and laughed and gossiped. But Lily never knew of the hatred that was stored so deep inside me, the hatred of her for what she was and what I knew her child would one day become.

When she died-it was like a part of me died with her. One part was glad that she was gone. It was a terrible part, and I tried to push it away. But another-one other part wanted her back. I lost my best friend that day. That part remained until you showed up."

"Hang on," Harry interrupted, his mind bursting with questions. "I thought you found out they were dead when Dumbledore gave you that note."

For once, she didn't tell him not to ask questions. She only buried her face deeper into her hands.

"Lily-was always special, even for a witch. She had powers that she said some of her classmates and teachers did not. And we-as I said-were very close. If something terrible happened, I would know. If she was elated, my heart would jump the same way. At first it scared me. But then I learned that it was the result of our close friendship. The side of my heart that harbored hatred and jealously grew a bit, but so did the other side. And that night-"

Aunt Petunia began to quiver. She shuttered and tried to hide the tears that were pouring into her hands.

"I remember it was a dark and stormy night. I had just finished cleaning up the kitchen and was ready to go to bed when the feeling hit me. It was as if a knife had pierced clean through my heart. Somehow, I knew, Lily was dead."

Harry felt a horrible, gut-wrenching feeling. A terrible feeling was spreading inside him.

"I dropped the glasses I was carrying. Vernon asked me what was wrong, but I just ran past him. At first I wouldn't give in. I refused to believe that Lily was dead. But then it hit me. She was dead, and there was nothing I could do about it. And then-then it hit me. If she'd never gotten involved in magic in the first place, she wouldn't have died. If she hadn't married that man, _James Potter,_ (she practically spat the name) she would still be alive. And from that moment on I hated magic and everything that came with it. I believed if I separated myself from my past, my family and I would be safe."

Harry's head was whirling with millions of confused thoughts, but he didn't open his mouth to speak his questions. Aunt Petunia continued on.

"It seemed the side of me that hated Lily had surfaced. I could no longer remember the good times we had together, how I loved her as a sister. And then-just as I had prepared myself to shut away all things having to do with magic-a stranger stepped on my doorstep."

Aunt Petunia's lips drew very tight. Finally she turned around and her bloodshot eyes settled on Harry. Harry was unnerved to see her face so worn, so thin with emotional torture. All images of his Aunt being a perfect, happy woman content to spy on the neighbors all her life was shattered in that moment. Once again, Harry saw her as his mother's sister.

"It was a man. He had a cloak tightly drawn and wished to speak to me. My mind screamed at me to close the door and not to let him in, but I didn't. I admitted him in. He was quiet, polite, but quite to business."

Somehow Harry thought of Dumbledore, but it didn't feel quite right. Dumbledore had been-Harry swallowed-a man of self-confidence. Not once had he hid himself, he always came out and explained himself in his cheery, confident matter.

"He explained that something very strange was about to happen. I was about to question why, but he interrupted me. One moment I was trying to see the face under the cloak, the other second a package was in my hand."

Aunt Petunia paused, her breath rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes searched out his, matching his pain, the pain he had harbored so long. For once, they shared an understanding.

"It was addressed to you."

Slowly, Aunt Petunia drew a hand into her pants pocket and pulled out a small package. Whatever it was, it was wrapped in soft green paper and looked roughly the size of a fist. Harry stared at it.

"Take it."

Automatically, Harry held out his hand. She dropped the package into his open palm. The same second she had done so, Harry felt warmth spread through him, warmth like he had never felt before. It touched his heart, blanketing it in its goodness, making him feel as if he was floating on air.

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia." Harry spoke the words as if it was coming from another body, echoing strangely in the vacant hallway.

She nodded, and turned to face the stairs again.

"And then you showed up. It was too much. First, Lily's death, then this strange visitor, then you. My hatred, at that time, had gone up to boiling point. I might have given you to an orphanage if I hadn't read your headmaster's letter."

"Dumbledore's dead," said Harry softly. Aunt Petunia turned to him again. Her face held no expression this time. She surveyed him, as if searching for something.

"I'm sorry."

Harry nodded. Aunt Petunia stared at him for a moment before continuing. The sun had awoken and was floating into the room. The light blue carpet lit with a golden light.

"You were a reminder of Lily. Your eyes…you look so much like her in that way. I hated you. I wanted to get rid of you, to cast you from my doorstep and never think upon you again. The letter convinced me otherwise. Dumbledore explained to me that you must be kept here, to uphold your mother's protection. I reread that letter what seemed millions of times, all the while you lay staring up at me with her eyes on my doorstep.

After a thousand years, it seemed, I made up my mind. By keeping you, I could give one last favor to Lily. I would be free of the love that still lingered in my heart for her, and free to hate her in peace. By taking you in, I was doing her one last favor. Then I could forget my past. I did not know how wrong I was.

A part of me ached every time I refused your innocent pleas for love. My heart was swallowed by hatred and darkness, so powerful that nothing could see past it. I was blind, blinded by my hatred. I knew that keeping you downtrodden would not keep Lily's gift from coming out in you. But I tried. I was determined not to give Dudley, my son the same past that I had, shamed by his magical sibling. It worked out perfectly. You were the lesser being, and Dudley was greater. But my hatred for Lily and her kind did not increase. I did not forget. Instead, every day, by abandoning you and caring only for Dudley, I increased my ties to the magical world. A part of me knew what I was doing was wrong. But I couldn't stop. I kept on pushing on, desperate to disconnect myself from Lily. By hating you, I only increased my debt to her, what I was doing to her son."

Harry stared out of the window, watching the clouds drifting by lazily. The trees were buffeted by wind every once in awhile. A great sadness was growing inside his heart, separate from the gaping hole that Sirius's death had left, but there all the same.

"Now I know I was wrong. You have not been molded by your magic, but by your personality and heart. I want you to know, Harry, I was always proud of you-for every little thing you did. I can now say I was wrong to hate you. You are a remarkable person. I am sorry, I know you will never forgive me, but I am…sorry."

Harry's hate and resentment towards his aunt was washed over with sadness…and relief? After all those things she said, after all those times she had said he was worthless, and no one would ever love him, she always had. Harry knew he would never forgive her in entirety. A part of his heart reached out for her, for her pain, for her suffering, the choices that she had made. He had felt the same way when Sirius had died, knowing that he was partly responsible for his death, the same ways that Aunt Petunia partly was responsible for his misery.

There was a long, loud silence that seemed to echo off the corridors. Ron and Hermione's clattering of plates had stopped, and everything was still.

"Where is Dudley?" Harry finally asked. Aunt Petunia gave a loud sniffle.

"He-he disappeared." she sobbed into her hands. "The night he got home from school, he still acted normal. He had one of his friends over for dinner, Piers, and of course, he had a healthy appetite. When I woke up the next morning, he was gone. No trace of him. It was like he'd never lived here. He was just….gone.

Harry remembered the drawn look on his uncle's face and the miserable one on hers all the time they had been at Privet Drive. He knew what it was like to loose a member of ones family.

"He'll come back, Aunt Petunia," said Harry quietly. "He loves you."

She nodded. Uncertainly, Harry pulled her into a half-hug. She did not resist, but buried her face into his chest, sobbing.

"We don't deserve you, Harry….please forgive us…"

Aunt Petunia let go of him. Harry let go of her and returned to the kitchen, where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"What is it?" asked Ron for the hundredth time.

Once again, they were in Harry's room. He had just finished telling them about the package, but he left the part about his mother and Aunt Petunia out. Ron and Hermione didn't question him on that, on which he was grateful.

"I don't know, Ron," said Hermione, frowning. "It could be dangerous."

"Come off it!" said Ron disbelievingly, staring at her. "It's addressed to him! You're just pari-"

"Do you know any spells we can use to check it?" Harry asked Hermione quickly, and she frowned.

"Yes…" she muttered. "But some objects have spells that protect against Reveling Spells…and I don't know any others…"

"Ah, c'mon!" protested Ron loudly, stretching out a hand to take the package sitting on the floor. Hermione batted his hand away irritably. "What's the fun if we don't even know what it is?"

"Well, I can at least try," said Hermione. She rolled up her sleeves importantly and cried, _"Revelo!"_

The package glowed bright yellow for a moment, but the light faded as soon as it had come. Hermione continued to stare at it expectantly for a moment, then gave a little sigh and stuck her wand back in her pocket.

"Too bad," she said.

Harry could feel his insides brimming with curiosity. All of a sudden he really wanted to know what was in this strange package. He could imagine himself tearing apart the emerald folds, feeling the smooth silk of the paper under his fingers, and finding something mysterious and mythical inside. Any cautious thoughts he had were long since gone, and his only thought was opening the package.

"Well, that's that," said Hermione briskly. "We'll ask the Order to investigate it…Ron, _what are you doing_?"

Ron had just grabbed the small package off the floor. He looked guiltily at Hermione's enraged face, and hopefully at Harry's curious one.

"Harry's aunt wouldn't have given it to him if she didn't think it was safe, wouldn't she?"

"Ron, _give that back!"_

But it was already too late. Ron had torn the silk wrapping off the small package and taken the minute object out.

The first thing Harry heard was a hum. It was soft at first, but growing ever louder still, long, deep notes that were eerie and foreboding. Ron merely stared at the object in his hands, his face growing afraid at the sinister sound.

"Ron, drop it!" Harry shouted.

But Ron wasn't paying attention. The small object in his hands had begun to vibrate, shaking so badly that Ron had to grasp onto it. The humming grew louder still, filling Harry's ears with an odd ringing sound.

Ron's eyes widened in shock, fighting to keep a hold on the object that was vibrating in his hands. It glowed a fierce red, vibrating harder all the while.

"Help me!" screamed Ron. Harry's eyes filled with horror when he saw the object was scorching Ron's hands. Hermione was screaming spells, trying to detach Ron from the object, but they just dissolved uselessly into the air. The whole bedroom was filled with red, fiery smoke, filling his lungs and burning his eyes. Wafts of smoke curled up like serpents around Ron, choking him-

Harry fought his way towards Ron, fighting the sting that was threatening to blind him. Ron was screeching, his hands red welts. Desperate, Harry tugged at the object that was tearing at Ron's hands.

Ron suddenly stopped screaming. All was still, the smoke cleared, his eyes normal, his lungs filling with air. Harry stared across at Ron. Ron's hands were mutilated, but that wasn't what seemed to concern him. Staring into Ron's eyes, Harry saw that his eyes were crystallized, staring at Harry. Looking down at his own hands, he saw what Ron was looking at.

In his hands was the mysterious object that had come in the package, a devil in disguise. It was beyond anything Harry had ever imagined it to be, so simple, a plain stone lying in the palm of his hand. For a moment-Harry felt fear. As soon as it had come, it was gone. The little stone, just the size of his fist, winked at him in the sunlight. Deaf to Ron's yelling and Hermione's pleas, Harry grabbed the stone in the other hand, closing it upon his fist.

Something exploded, filling the room with brilliant auras of light. Harry yelled, trying to break free of the terrible power of the stone, but it wouldn't let go. A magnetic force was connecting him and the mysterious object, bonding them together so tightly that Harry could not let go, squeezing his insides. Strange bright light flew into his body at such speed that he could barley see it.

Surely soon…he would burst with the pain…every limb in his body was screaming in agony, trying to fight the power that was rushing through him…mentally, Harry willed it away with all the force in his body…trying to tear it from his mind…

But another part of his mind relaxed. Cruelly, it welcomed the power, embracing it, stitching it into him. There was nothing he could do to resist. A horrible, unknown part of him was welcoming the power, as if it was old part of him that he had lost. Harry's face filled with terror as he felt the heart of the power dive into his own, curling, whispering, grasping at him…

Harry felt himself being lifted off the ground. He was ripped away from his body and pulled up into the bright light just above him. Distantly, Harry wondered if this was finally his end. Was his battle over? Was this the fate destiny had chosen for him?

His heart warmed at the thought of his parents, waiting, beckoning for him…

"_Soon…my son….soon…"_

Harry James Potter floated from the earth, encased in the dazzling magenta light that was carrying him, while on earth, his two best friends leaned over his still body and wept, their salty tears falling in thick splashes upon the carpet, sending a rainbow flying over the softly lit ceiling.

A/N: Whew! That was long. Again, sorry it took so long! Blame the teachers. Please please please please review! Just hit that nice, pretty little button on the bottom of the screen! I love hearing from you!


	4. the Bearer

Chapter 4- The Bearer

He was floating; there was nothing he could do. Warm waves washed over his mind, calming him, soothing him. Invisible waves gently buffeted his skin as he was lifted up and down, as if resting on the surface of an ocean. His eyes remained shut, not wanting to wake up from this world devoid of pain; misery, and loss.

"_Harry. It's time to wake up. It's time to open your eyes."_

A strange, mythical voice wove through the waves that seemed to lift him. Harry willed the voice to go away, to leave him alone and let him drift forever in this carefree world. He shut his eyes more tightly and tried to turn away from the sound; but it seemed to come from everywhere.

"_Wake up. Wake up."_

Harry groaned and pulled his hands over his ears. The sound was ringing through his head, disrupting the peace that had settled over his mind.

"Just-go away" he muttered thickly, pressing against his ears even harder. Why couldn't they just leave him be? Why couldn't they tell he was happier just floating here, alone, untroubled and peaceful?

More voices this time-getting louder and louder-the sound of it was making his head pound-

Unable to ignore it any longer, he opened his eyes.

"Mum?" he asked, his mouth gaping in disbelief. His feeling of tranquility vanished in a second. Fear and panic rushed in, making his head pound and restricting the oxygen coming into his lungs. "Am I dead? Why is my bloody mum here?"

Auburn hair danced, swishing to and fro, and a laugh played from young lips still smeared with lip gloss. _"No, Harry. You are not dead." _His mother looked down on him, smiling from underneath a dark scarlet robe. Thousands, it seemed, folds were draped over her body, making her shapeless. Only her head was visible, shining with light. Her emerald eyes smiled benevolently down upon him, her eyes sparkled with happiness and mischief.

Harry stared at her in complete shock. _'How-what-how am I meeting my mum?' _But there she was, standing before him, fiery Weasley-like hair and glittering green eyes completing the job.

He'd barley opened his mouth when his mother swept him into a tight hug. Harry stood uncomfortably against it for a moment, unsure what to do, and then returned the embrace. Soft, silky robes brushed against his cheeks, magnifying the warmth and love Harry felt. His whole body racked with pain and misery, here she was, here to love him, and protect him…

Harry wasn't even aware that he'd been crying. Ashamed, he let go of her and quickly wiped his face on the back of his hand. Harry was used to hiding his tears-he'd always had when Dudley punched him, or when he was punished. Showing weakness was one thing Harry had not been raised to do. Lily gently took his wrist and moved it away from his tear-stained face.

"_It's all right, Harry,"_ she said softly, her voice still ringing with that unnatural tone. "_You have nothing to be ashamed of." _

Nodding, he adjusted his glasses just to see her step back a pace or so. Behind her was more people-people he hadn't noticed. Dressed in emerald cloaks in sharp contrast to his mother's red one, they stood silently in a semi-circle, watching them. Harry felt the heat rise to his cheeks. How long had they been standing there? With a jolt in his stomach, Harry realized that they were-_floating_-not lying down as he had, but floating in mid-air like stationary balloons. They had hoods covering their faces, their robes many folds but wrapped tightly around them. And another thing-they stood (or floated) perfectly still, not a hair moving. The unnaturalness of it all was scaring him. Harry turned back to his mother, suddenly much more awed by her mythical voice. She merely smiled at him, her face retaining that Potter charm that Remus and Sirius said he always had.

"_All will be explained," _she said softly, before Harry could voice the questions that were pouring into his brain like thick cement.

His mother (his_ mother_) nodded to one of the cloaked figures floating in the back, and he stepped forwards. The figure's steps were as ridged as his stature, small, quick and clean. It took him only a few seconds to reach Harry, however. He stopped in front of him. Then, to Harry's surprise, knelt and sunk into a deep bow. Nonplussed, Harry stared, not knowing what to say.

"_The Bearer has come at last." _

Harry might have scoffed at these corny words if he hadn't been so shocked and frozen. _'The Bearer? What the hell? Is that another title? Or-' _Harry's heart began to race- '_Prophecy?" _

The man looked up at him, and Harry was sure he would have fainted if he didn't feel the newly found strength rushing through his veins. Instead of eyes in the socket of the robed figure was two large aquamarine spheres…but they weren't any ordinary eyes. They looked like they were made of crystal, light reflecting off every uncovered inch of the shining irises. And-as pupils-there were dark wisps dancing around the irises, on their own free will. The wisps were not circular, but made out of many strands, twisting and streaming their way around the eyes. The man's skin was paler than death, and his face was cut of a stone, hard, pale, and porcelain. If he had not been moving, Harry would have thought him a doll. But no doll could be as hard and cold as this.

"_Harry," _came his mother's voice from behind him, "_This is Rutilus." _

It was only then that the man was still looking up at him, waiting for a reply. Harry blushed, he must have looked like a idiot staring at him all this time. He nodded and made to shake his hand, but his mother shook her head and laughed.

"_Greet him." _

Harry stared at her in utter confusion. She gave him a encouraging nod, and stepped back into the place Rutilus had abandoned. Harry turned back to Rutilus. He was afraid. Somehow, he knew what to do. He had known it all along.

Harry waved his hand over Rutilus's head. A light shower of golden sparks drizzled from his hand.

"_Greetings, Rutilus."_ Harry had barley gone the words out when panic seized him. His voice was no longer one of a developing teenage boy. It was mythical, smooth, soft, and flowing as swiftly and smoothly as a river winding its way throughout the mountains.

An invisible force had seemed to take over his mind. The force inside him was a long lost part of him, eagerly wanting to embrace him. Harry looked at his mother, fearful.

"_Are you a demon?" _Again, the words spilled from his mouth, beautiful and strange. It comforted him, made him feel whole. He felt a part of him had returned, something that he had never known was there.

"_Yes, my Prince." _

Once again he opened his mouth to express the shock that whammed into him at the speed of a million light-years, but this time it was Rutilus that interrupted.

"_There is not much time. We have only hours." _Without another word, Rutilus gave another deep bow and walked away, stiff as before.

"Only hours?" Harry blurted out, determined to make himself heard this time. Rutilus did not turn around, but continued walking. "What? What is happening? What do you mean by Prince?"

Still, Rutilus did not turn around. The demon took his place back in the circle of the others. Now his mother stepped forwards, looking strange in the sea of emerald-clad demons.

"_Harry," _she spoke, still in that strange voice. _"Your greatest Protector has fallen. Now is the time for you to take the burden of the Bearer. You come from a family long linked in royal blood, which is why Rutilus called you Prince, do you see? The Bearer has protected the Wizarding World for generations. The Bearer's power is only called upon once a great evil is in the world, and the time is right. However, there is not just a Bearer. There is a Wielder, one who controls the dark powers of the universe. You know him as Voldemort."_

She paused, her face haunted by worry, lines showing on her young face.

"_The Power both of you have comes from the Silver Stone, the object which you touched. Half goes to the Wielder and half to the Bearer. Voldemort has recently discovered the Stone, and used it to gain his powers. Now you have yours. But you are in much danger. The Silver Stone has one great weakness…its contender, another Stone. Much like the Bearers andWielders,the Protectorsand Receivers are passed down in generations. The Protectors protect the Stone, and the Receivers control who uses the Stone. _

Harry's heart was pumping very fast. Bearers? Wielders? What?

"_The Silver Stone decides whether or not to choose its partner, regardless of bloodline. It rejected your friend Ron, as you saw, but choose you. It chooses depending on the amount of love or hatred in an individual, in this case, you and Tom Riddle. Depending on the amount of love and hate, the stone will be less or more effective. Up to now, it has never seen stronger people than you, besides Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin, who were the ones to first discover it." _

"The power the dark lord knows not…" Harry whispered, running his hands through his hair. All along, there had really been something special about him…His mother nodded sadly, looking at her predestined son.

"But how?" Harry asked, his voice laced with confusion. "How is it that you are here? Where's Dad? Who are all these-demons?"

"_We used to be Bearers, Wielders, Receivers, or Protectors," _she replied, looking proud for a moment. _'In the afterlife, our job is to make sure that the next Bearer receives the power. I used to be a Bearer. The others are Receivers or Protectors, turned into Demons." _

As she spoke, Harry whirled around, expecting to see Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes winking out of him behind a set of green robes. The eyes behind the masks remained still and unfeeling, gazing out from beneath their covers. The twinkling eyes were absent, only a fragment of memory.

"_Not Dumbledore," _said his mother quietly, staring at him with something akin to pity. _"Some move on…some choose to remain…"_

"Why though?" Harry croaked, fighting the emotions raging up inside him. "Surely-he'd want to help- wait- _How come he never told me?_"

Rage boiled inside him as quickly and unexpectantly as a leaping snake. Snarling, he bared his fists.

"He'd kept it secret from me all this time! He knew! The bloody bastard knew!"

The rage that had been piling up inside him for days burst, the unfairness and unexpectance of Dumbledore's death came streaming out.

"_He did not tell you because you did not know of your role, then," _said his mother calmly. _"How would you feel, tell me, if you had another burden to carry around, even before you could do anything about it? Would you want another reason for people to point and stare at you all your life, another expectation?"_

His mother's piercing gaze was upon him, seriousness in her eyes. He immediately began to feel ashamed of his outburst.

"I'm sorry, Mum," he said. "I wasn't thinking."

He looked around at them all, wondering what to say, when a question that had been bothering him for nearly a year sprang to his mind.

"What-what will happen if I loose?"

One of the demons frowned, and then motioned Harry to the side. He hesitated and then motioned for Harry to move to the side. Harry complied, nervous and eager at the same time. Then, the demon waved an arm and Harry let out a cry of amazement.

What he was looking down upon was a very small village, with houses dotting the stone-paved streets every few meters. Flowerbeds decorated the sidewalks, the houses were painted a blinding white, and sunny tulips poked out of grass bends.

It would have been pretty if the atmosphere wasn't so tense.

The people, who Harry knew were wizards, were hunched over and whispering, much like Harry had seen them do in Diagon Alley. None of them seemed eager to stay in the street too long. They cast nervous glances around them, as if expecting a monster to pop out of the bushes any second.

Harry's gaze melted over at the pretty yet tense sight; until he saw a bunch of bushy brown hair being tossed into his range of vision.

"Hermione!" Harry whispered, his heart lightening upon seeing one of his best friends. She was here, alive!

Hermione seemed older; her face was more lined than Harry remembered and her hair more limp than usual. She seemed more energized than the other sullen villagers, yet looked cautiously around all the same. After a few moments of sweeping the village with her eyes, she ducked around a corner and vanished into the white wall.

Harry gasped; he couldn't help it. The room Hermione had entered looked like a battle room. Armor and shields lined the walls; spare wands were in boxes in one corner, and an official looking table stood in the middle of the room, housing several people. The room had a atmosphere of intensity and long-worn use.

He was relieved to see Ron sitting at that table, looking a lot older but no worse for the wear, the other Weasleys, most of the Order, and even a few new people Harry didn't know. Harry watched them all, waiting to see what the purpose of this meeting would be. Ron didn't look much older than seventeen, surely this was one of his first meetings, and it would excite him? He studied Ron, but saw no look of excitement on his face. His eyes were blank, wiped of emotion, haunted by ghosts Harry could not see. Slowly, Harry turned to the others.

Their faces looked the same way.

Then Harry realized something: he was the only one missing from the room.

"Sorry I'm late," panted Hermione, pulling off her cloak and thrusting it, very un-Hermione like, into a corner. "Ran into a spot of trouble in the Hog's Head."

Harry again looked at Ron to see his reaction, but his expression was as blank and meaningless as before. His head barley nodded before he resumed staring straight ahead in front of him, his face full of sorrow.

It was only then that Harry noticed Ginny sitting in a chair at the table. Everything else didn't seem to matter. The only thing he saw was Ginny, sitting alone, her eyes puffy and red from crying, her knees scrunched up to her chest. Distantly he felt tears pour down his cheeks. The bright brown eyes Harry had known and loved were gone, replaced by empty shells that made him think of a dying battlefield.

"Ginny?" he whispered, reaching out to touch her, but his hand just passed through her shoulder, grasping at thin air. Her expression remained unchanged, but her eyes filled with pain.

"G-ginny," he sobbed, feeling hopeless and weak, that he could not help her, that nothing could be done.

"Voldemort's moving out into the open," said Hermione, breathing quickly as she said this. Harry noticed little balls of sweat forming on her brow having nothing to do with the cool spring weather. "He hasn't discovered us yet."

Ron merely nodded, while Ginny continued to stare straight ahead with empty eyes.

Mrs. Weasley nodded as well, and Harry could not help but notice that her eyes were empty and cold as Ron's, devoid of the motherly warmth Harry had always sensed in her. Mr. Weasley had an arm around her shoulder.

"How much time do we have left?" asked an older looking Bill, and Harry was slightly elated to see his arm around Fleur.

"Hours," said Hermione grimly. "We need to warn the others, and quickly."

"I'll go," said Bill, and he strode to the door. Fleur leapt from her chair and ran to him, her blonde hair frazzled.

"Bill-don't go-no-" Large pearly tears trickled down her face.

"I have to," he said softly, kissing her on the cheek. Fleur's watery eyes looked up at him pleadingly. "I'll see you later, love."

Without another word, he strode out the door, not even stopping for his cloak. Harry followed him, glad to leave the depressed room behind.

Pandemonium was raging outside. Shouts and screams filled the air, curses and jets of light burned into buildings and hedges. Horrified, Harry watched helplessly as Bill sprinted out the door, drawing his wand.

A devastating sight met his eyes. Thick smoke rose from crackling flames, blocking out the bright blue sky. Fires raged everywhere, crumbling houses and seizing up trees.

Harry's mouth dropped open. This was no battle-it was a slaughter. Hundreds-no, _thousands _of Death Eaters were swarming around, cursing anything that moved. The look of terror and helplessness on the people's faces was too much for Harry to bear as they awaited their deaths. He tried to look away, but his eyes were glued to the scene.

Jets of green light claimed bodies, and one by one they fell down on the pavement, dead. Body after body broke on the ground, never to lift again.

"_Stupefy!"_

Harry's heart broke as he recognized the voice. Hermione and Ron were fighting, back to back, stunning the Death Eaters.

'_No….they'll be killed!" _

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" they cried, falling several Death Eaters, but there were simply too many. For a moment, all Harry could see was the swishing of dark velvet robes as the death eaters danced around his friends, dark bursts of light shooting from the wands their owners held, eyes burning from behind their masks. Hermione and Ron danced as well, their eyes furious, filled with an enraged passion for their enemies defeat.

Time froze. The burning flames and screams were far away. He was deaf to it. Lord Voldemort walked out of the flames, the deep red of his eyes burning a bloody red, flames dancing in his serpentine eyes. That moment was the first time Harry had ever felt true fear at the sight of Voldemort, fear that immobilized him. An iron hand grasped at his heart, squeezing it so hard that his breath vanished.

'_No…run! Not them! No!"_

Without thinking, Harry ran forwards, his hands outstretched to take his friends from danger. His hands grasped at thin air, his friend's petrified figures hovering in between him, mere apparitions of a deadly future.

Voldemort smiled cruelly at the sight of the two young teens, his eyes filling with hungry desire. Harry saw Ron and Hermione's eyes grow wide with fear.

"Why, why…isn't it Potter's little friends?"

Ron growled and grasped his wand so tightly that his arm began to shake.

"Say goodbye…" Voldemort hissed his face triumphant. Harry had never seen him this confident, power brimming off of him. "Say goodbye…Potter abandoned you…"

"No!" Ron yelled, but Harry could see the pain and doubt in his eyes. "Harry would never abandon us!"

"He did," hissed Voldemort. "Died, and left you to win a war that you knew you could not win without him…Now, it's time to join your friend…_Avada Kedavra!"_

"NO!" screamed Harry, rushing forwards, just as the bright green light claimed his friends. Ron's face was filled with horror as it hurled into him, sending his face alight with green. He vaulted backwards, landing to rest on the blood-soaked grass. His eyes were wide open, staring, just as Cedric's had been, as if saying…

_It's all your fault. You failed us. You failed the war._

Hermione joined him seconds later, her eyes wide in fear and disbelief, as the green light sucked the light from her body.

_No…_

_It was all his fault…he failed them…_

Thick tears fell from his eyes as he stood, brokenly, looking at the broken bodies of his two best friends lying in the lawn, the grass smeared with blood. Screams faded…the dancing flames died lower…and lower…

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Harry landed back into the chamber that he had grown to known. His face still stained with tears, he looked up into the waiting face of his mother.

"I'll do it."

His mother nodded solemnly. _"I knew you would,"_ she said. _"Even if you had not seen that, you still would have."_

Harry stood still, not knowing what to say. Flashes of the vision swam before his eyes…his friends, dead…Ginny, alone…

"_Onis,_" his mother said to another man, "_You may begin."_

The man nodded respectably, and walked forwards. Harry watched him, no longer apprehensive, his mind set on the task to be done. He would do whatever it took to save them. Even with his newfound confidence, Harry couldn't help but stare as the man drew a gleaming object from underneath his robe.

It was something Harry had never seen-or even thought of-in his life. The object the man was holding was a crystal ball-there was no mistaking the small glass ball in the palm of his hand. But it was not solid-like the man's pupils, it was made up of dark wisps, gliding around in a circular shape. Harry couldn't help but appreciate how the wisps wove together, creating a perfect shape, and not once stepping out of place.

Onis handed it to him. Harry took it, not knowing what to do, memorized with the perfection of the glass ball.

"_Hold it to your lips."_

He lifted the glass ball up to his lips. Harry was shocked to feel the wisps were breathing, as if alive. Harry could feel them pulsing, in and out, as they touched the coolness of his lips. There was no taste to them, no feeling.

And suddenly-unexpectantly- the glass shattered into a million pieces, flying everywhere. A spectrum of color lit up the room as tiny shards of glass hovered in the air, separate from each other's hold.

Energy filled him like a balloon rising from the floor, held aloft with air. His eyes closed as the energy rushed on through him, sending scarlet fire dancing before his eyes, raging with power and energy and a _soul-_It was if he was taking one deep breath and never letting it out-a new being, someone-that was not Harry anymore-

As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The air was gone from his lungs, his tear laden eyes opened to his mother's watching face. Yet the feeling inside of him the orb had given Harry was still there, floating, undetectable inside him. Red fire danced in front of his eyes, reminding him of the power that had awakened so newly inside of him.

Somehow, he was calm. A great peace-as he had never felt before-settled over him.

"_It is done,"_ said his mother quietly, observing him with satisfaction. _"You will have to discover your powers yourself-but the powers of the Stone have been activated. There may be some changes-but do not worry, they are natural. Your powers will come as needed-you will not recieve them overnight.The Stone has been a part of you and will be a part of you forever. It has chosen you. There is no turning back."_

Harry nodded. A grim determination had set over him after he saw the bleak future-the future if he failed. And he would do anything to ensure that he would win. Now, for the first time, he saw meaning in what he had dismissed as a nickname- _Chosen One._

"_Go,"_ his mother whispered, pointing her finger at a space in the room. There was nothing special about it, until Harry saw a midnight blackness erupt out of nowhere. Its contents were a pitch black, so black that Harry was certain that if he stared into it, his eyes would be lost forever in its space.

Harry looked up at his mother as if for clarification. She smiled at him still, that benign smile frolicking upon her lips. Her eyes held tears-yet they were proud tears, tears cried for _him._ Steps away from the dark abyss that would take him home, Harry rushed back to his mother and ran into her embrace. She cried into his robes, sobbing tears of joy and sorrow. Time stopped as mother and son united for the last time. Finally she let go of him and planted a wet kiss on his forehead. Harry felt himself fill with warmth and happiness, alike none he'd ever felt before. Lily Potter tilted her son's identical emerald orbs towards hers.

"Good luck, Harry," she murmured, and backed away, afraid that she would never let him go if she didn't.

Harry took one last, longing look at his mother and the wonderful life this place could bring him. For a moment, he thought of abandoning his life to live here, happy and content. Until he remembered the terrible deeds Voldemort had done. How his duty was to stop him, at any cost. He had friends who loved him, and would miss him if he left.

With determination, his thoughts planted firmly on his friends, innocents, and just life-he stepped through the abyss, darkness slowly swallowing him up until he was no more.

000000000000000000000000

Note: This is _not_ a Superpower Harry story. If you read carefully, she says that his powers will come as needed, not overnight.And it's not going to be anything huge or unbelievable. Please review and tell me what you think! Keep in mind this chapter was a monster to write. I have 3 drafts of it.


	5. Serpent Covered Walls

Chapter 5- Serpent Covered Walls

Severus Snape stood idly in his place in the circle of Death Eaters, watching as they whispered frantically and passed news to each other. A smirk grew on his sullen face, dulled by the stormy, haunted eyes that had decked his face so long. There was nothing for him to worry about. He was in the Dark Lord's favor now. _The fools. _They thought they could get away with mere apologies, didn't they know by now the Dark Lord did not accept groveling and begging for forgiveness? Snape's face leered darkly as the observed the whispering adults, no doubt wondering why this meeting was called forth.

Severus Snape was not stupid. The Dark Lord knew this; this is why he was most careful in diverging information to Severus before his murder of Albus Dumbledore. He was a master at trickery, twisting stories, and spinning tales so carefully and skillfully that even one of the greatest wizards in the world would believe him. As a master of guarding his emotions and thoughts, he was not a prone wizard.

Not even to Lord Voldemort.

That was why, perhaps, the darkest demon of those times had called a meeting with his followers one dull Tuesday night in his headquarters. Although they could hardly be called followers. They would abandon their Lord with the blink of an eye, with the slightest slip of weakness. The only reason the Dark Lord put up with them was because he had little other followers-yet. Snape knew of this; but he was silently forbidden to inform the others. Such reasons were better off unexplained.

"Severus," came an icy, cold voice behind him, and he felt the unnaturally twisted, scaly hand of his master clasp his shoulder. "We are ready to begin."

"Yes, Master," Severus murmured, and his Lord walked away, leaving not a feeling of dread, but of apprehension.

He knew this meeting was about him. He had proved his worth, in murdering Albus Dumbledore, but could he truly show his ultimate loyalty towards his Lord? That was the test the Dark Lord was putting him through tonight; to lower his shields and let his Lord determine his level of loyalty. And if he succeeded…the rewards could be great…

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his spot for the first time, but no one noticed. If he did not store away his private thoughts carefully, so no one but him would see. If the Dark Lord knew how vulnerable he really was…

A sudden silence wiped all thought from his mind, clearing it blank. Severus looked up at the Death Eaters nervously awaiting the Dark Lord to speak, some new recruits actually shaking in fear at the Dark Lord's serpentine figure.

In a flash, the Dark Lord pulled out his wand. Many flinched or backed away, a few of the new recruits even screamed, but in a simple wave of the wand, several chairs were arranged around the room in a neat circle. The majority of the Death Eaters stared at them in disbelief, still shaking with fear.

"This may take awhile," said the Dark Lord indifferently, pretending not to notice their reactions. "So we might as well sit."

First the Dark Lord sat, and then he motioned for Severus to sit in the seat next to him. Without hesitation, Severus took his place. He noticed with a cold satisfaction that Bellatrix was glaring at him across the circle from a collection of many junior Death Eaters, whom were still shaking in fright. She hissed at them and they yelped and scuttled away from her. He couldn't repress another smirk and for a moment wished he could take her place in tormenting the recruits.

On the Dark Lord's other side was Rookwood, next to him Nott, then Avery, Manicir…Severus stopped there, no longer interested in the seating arrangements. It was obvious that the Dark Lord was still playing on his favorites.

It was completely silent now; all eyes were on the Dark Lord, some in fear and some in respect.

"Welcome to my home," said the Dark Lord quietly, gesturing around to the elegantly decorated walls. Large serpents wove up the side of pillars, their eyes set with ruby and sapphires that made them look real. Even Snape had to hold back a shudder as his eyes followed the Dark Lord's hand. "Now, we have things to discuss…the attack on Hogwarts, how many casualties were they?"

His head turned to Nott so quickly as he said this that Snape would thought it had turned by its own will. Nott looked nervous as all eyes turned to him at once.

"One, my Lord," he answered, automatically twisting his palms in his lap and not looking up. The Dark Lord's smile widened.

"_One?" _he hissed, his face shining with an insane pleasure. _"Just one?"_

"Yes, my Lord." Nott repeated, but the Dark Lord did not question him any further.

"And Severus," he continued, his face turning to Snape's, "Well done! Well done, indeed…"

He stood up, red serpentine eyes searching until they found an empty seat.

"_But what of dear Draco?" _he hissed, his voice imitating a snakes, rising and falling with velocity. _"Has he not preformed the task I set out of him to do?"_

"My Lord, Draco did not seem able to perform the task," Snape said swiftly. The Dark Lord's eyes found his and narrowed slightly, otherwise he did not seem displeased. "It seemed only fitting that I finish it for him, since Dumbledore was weak."

"So Draco fled." There was an amused tone in his voice now.

"Yes, my Lord. Once we had left Hogwarts, he Apparated away to a place unknown."

"Ah, well done….well done all of you. But there is one question we must ask ourselves. Severus, you said Dumbledore was weak, did you not?"

Snape nodded, knowing where this was going. His suspicious had indeed been correct. Quickly, unnoticed by anyone, he began sorting his thoughts in his head. _Childhood memories…Father…c'mon…where's Draco…_

"And there was a second broom on top on the tower, was there not?"

Snape nodded again, now barley aware of what was being said. _The cries of his Mother…Lucius leading him into a hidden spot in the woods, telling him his talents would do good…the talisman he always carried with him, matching the color of the moonlight…men in heavily laden cloaks…_

"Now we must question ourselves, who was on that broom? Could it be-?

"_You slut!" the hooked-nose man screamed at the woman crying. "You filthy, lying, whore!"_

"_Please…I didn't…I was framed!"_

"_You're one of them! You lied to me! Now I'm stuck with a bastard of a child and a whore for a wife!"_

"_Please…don't do this!"_

_A hand raised…bursts of light…_

"Why would he take anyone as unintelligent, as useless as-"

"_Faster!" growled Professor Dracious, his bat like figure hovering over him. "How do you think you can become what you are meant to be the way you are?"_

"_I'm trying, Professor, I'm trying!"_

"_You are an insult to your mother! The stupid slut that she-"_

"_DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HER THAT WAY!"_

"_OUT! GET OUT, I SAY!"_

"It could be important, it might not-"

"_Severus?" His mother was lying on the bed, fragile and weak, looking up at him through teary eyes._

"_Yes, Mother?" Tears fell from his eyes; he grasped her hand firmly in his. _

"_Promise me-that you will do what you feel is right-"_

"_I promise."_

"_Don't let him hurt you, Severus…stay alive…stay happy…for me…" Her eyes drooped. He rushed to her side._

"_Mother…I'm here…"_

"_I love you, Severus." _

_She was gone…_

"I need someone responsible to keep a close watch on these relics, _no_, Nott, you do not apply…

_The talisman was glowing brightly. Severus stared at it in shock._

"_Well, don't just stand there, boy, open it!" _

_Severus stared at his professor's face and then back at the talisman. _

'_Do what you feel is right…'_

_He detached his hands from the stone, oblivious to his professor's screams…_

"And someone to retrieve the Stone safely…I trust you will be able to, Severus?"

He crammed the revolving thoughts temporarily to the back of his mind and nodded. The Dark Lord went on, satisfied.

"_I don't need your help!"_

_Severus silently cast a Muffliato spell on the door. He turned back to Draco._

"_It was hard for me…it may be hard for you, as well."_

"_I'll do fine!" Draco yelled. "And once I kill Dumbledore, I'll carry out my duties as a Receiver…"_

"_The sooner the better, Draco."_

"Only then may you do so…we do not want anyone getting a gist of the plan…"

"_Draco," Snape spoke, in a cold, quiet voice, "You are now the Receiver."_

_Draco nodded._

Almost automatically, Snape tucked the talisman deeper inside his robes. If he had been paying any attention, he would have seen it glowing.

"Dismissed," said the Dark Lord from very far off, as it seemed. There was a loud clatter of chairs and whooshes of flames as many people left the room. Snape stayed where he was. He knew the Dark Lord would want to speak to him.

"Severus," said the Dark Lord quietly, once all others had left, "I wish you to be a guard for my Horcruxes. Stay alert and tell me if anyone breaches the wards. In the meantime, re-locate the cave and retrieve the Stone. Then, bring it to me. But first…I do trust you, Severus, but…as a precaution…"

Snape braced himself for what he had known all along was coming. Eliine Prince danced before his eyes as he looked into Voldemort's, and for the first time in the Dark Lord's presence, he fought not to shake.

"_Legilimens!"_

Snape could feel it coming, the spell pierced through his very bones, his skull was on fire…but he could not push back, only ensure that the mental barriers were still in place in the dark corner of his mind…

_Flashes…of that night…Dumbledore falling over the tower, illuminated by the Dark Mark…Potter screaming, "COWARD!" …concocting a potion, a deep emerald green...his own satisfied smirk as he walked away from a conversation with Dumbledore…cursing Flitwick…toasting the Dark Lord with the sisters…_

And then there were more…_Writing down spells in his old Potions book…cursing his ex-girlfriend for leaving him…tearing through Potter's mind, watching memories fly by in front of his eyes…plotting revenges on his devil of a stepfather…_

"Enough." The Dark Lord's voice pierced through the whirl of confusion that was his brain, and he felt the spell lifted. Snape staggered forward and caught himself just on time. Panting, he looked up at the Dark Lord, who was looking at him in a new way, with more respect than Snape had ever seen him look at anyone before.

"You have proved yourself to me. Do this task well, and you will be honored beyond any of your wildest dreams. Then ask any request…and I shall grant it."

The Dark Lord nodded in dismissal. Snape bowed and strode from the room with his robes billowing behind him, already knowing what his request would be.

A/N: I feel like kicking myself for the horrible lack of update, but I had writer's block and exams. The other chapter is proving difficult to write, so I switched them around! I should be updating a lot faster now that tests are over. Review please!


	6. The Face in the Moon

Chapter 6- The Face in the Moon.

Gravel spat at the back of his legs as he walked, stinging his soft flesh. The place was dark…shadowed by overgrown bushes and trees, their dark reflections jacketing the path he now walked on. He could see nothing…feel nothing. Darkness closed in around him like a shadow, sending a blanket easing over his eyes, blinding him, pulling at his consciousness, luring him into sleep…

His feet carried him on, urged by determination and instinct, moving onwards, oblivious to the gravel that snapped at his heels as he walked.

Harry stopped. Through the blackness, lighting the shadowed trees with a brilliant gold was a light. The light at the end of the tunnel.

A foreign cloak swirled around his legs, hiding the rest of his body in its deep folds. There was no wind. An eerie calm seemed to set over the forest as he decided to step forwards. The gravel settled soundlessly back to earth, coating the path once more with millions of gray pebbles.

All was quiet.

A burst of light blinded him. Harry staggered backwards as waves and waves of light were thrown over the forest, bringing it to life. Squinting his eyes, Harry looked up into the sky. It had completely transformed. No longer was it a pale blue. Now it was shades of magenta and violet, thrown violently over each other, making multi colored splotches in the sky. Streams of golden stars flew-_flew_ across it, riding invisible rivers of wind. Leaves blew into his face, one after another, in never ending torrents of red and gold. Throwing up an arm to protect his face, he was able to squint through a little crack in his arm.

Light was pouring in through what he had thought had been the end of the tunnel. Confusion and fear filled him as he gazed at it. What laid beyond the light?

As he stood there, etched with fear and amazement at the beautiful occurrence, a voice filled his head, and a comforting song weaving through his thoughts, relaxing them. Relief and comfort filled him at the sound of the voice, and his limbs unlocked. No matter how he thought, how much his emotions wished to reclaim his fear and shock, a greater power, one much greater than he had ever encountered before, guided him. Harry took one step and was not surprised to find that he moved quickly and untroubled. On and on he went, each step sounding loudly in the gravel as he stepped towards the light. The strange black cloak closed in on him, shielding him from the harsh winds of the forest. Now he was no more than a shadow in the forest alight with gold, light bouncing unnaturally off his cloak.

He was almost there…Harry stretched out his hand as the light approached…almost…almost…_almost_…

"Oh, the poor dear."

"Why couldn't you have brought him to St. Mungo's?"

"Because, Dad, Scrimgeour would have mobbed him with the press. How's he supposed to recover with all that going on?"

"Well-it maybe would have been better if he'd gone. He's not even waking up!"

"Mum, how is he?" A girl's voice.

Harry heard a woman sigh. "No better, sweetie, but no worse. I suppose that's all we can hope for now." An armchair creaked and then the woman burst into tears. "I-it's like my boggart! Guilt filled him as he listened to the woman sob. He didn't know her…why was he feeling guilt…and pain for the person sitting in front of him?

"What's that?"

A hand pulled at him. Harry smiled-it was warm, and he liked the touch.

"_Mum? Mum, he's responding_!"

Noise and clatter filled his ears. He heard none of that, however. All he heard was the girl saying, "Harry…wake up, _wake up_!"

Harry struggled to open his eyes, but they were as heavy as lead. His arms and legs were as useless as a rag doll's. Thoughts and voices swirled around his mind in a blur, undistinguishable as the next. Only the girl's clear, comforting voice made sense to him. Why did he feel so happy when she talked to him?

Footsteps, and the world shook with the force of a thousand elephants beneath him. A great weight tipped him forwards. Helpless, unable to move, Harry groaned in protest. It was making his head swim…

'Fred, George! _Get off that bed this instant_!"

The weight lifted, and Harry relaxed. "Ah, c'mon, Mum! It's only a few weeks into vacation! He can't sleep through it!"

"Yeah, mate," exclaimed another friendly voice, although Harry could detect traces of worry hidden in the cheerfulness. "You can't lie in bed all day! C'mon, ickle Chosen One!"

"Shut up, you two!"

A hand felt his sweaty forehead, a hand very soft and familiar. Longing overcame the heaviness in his eyes. He struggled against his body's need to fall back asleep, and opened his eyes.

"Harry!"

That was all he heard before a light blinded him. Shrinking backwards, he instinctively raised a arm to protect himself. A feeling of calmness came over him, and he blinked a few times. The light at the end of the tunnel was…Ron's room? Quidditch players were grinning at him from every direction, moving more than they were supposed to because of his blurry vision.

"Here," a voice said, and he felt the cool metal of his glasses pushed onto his nose. Harry blinked a few times, then took in his observers. Ron and Hermione were sitting next to his bed, looking extremely pale and worried. Mrs. Weasley was hovering over him like a hawk, her bloody eyes filled with relief. To his right, the Weasley twins were barricaded in the corner, eying him warily. Thankfully, Fleur was nowhere to be in sight. Harry didn't think he could handle her right now. His head was pounding so hard that he had difficulty holding it up.

"Thanks," he said, his voice scratching the words. Harry looked to his left and was startled to see Ginny kneeling next to his bed, holding a pitcher of water. His stomach flip-flopped as he looked his former girlfriend in the face. Her eyes were blank and gave him no clue of her thoughts. A strong, protective lion roared through him, warning to urge her to run and stay away from him. Before he could voice his thoughts, Ginny held the pitcher to his lips. The water quenched the terrible thirst he did not realize he had, and before long the whole pitcher was emptied.

"I'll go get some more," said Ginny quietly. Harry watched her leave the room, filled with a hungry desire to call her back. He bit his lip, resisting.

"How are you feeling?" asked Hermione anxiously, and Harry heard her scoot her chair closer to him.

"Fine," he answered automatically, despite the aching pain in his back and ribs. "Er-what happened?"

Harry looked at the disheveled figure of his best friend. She took one glance at him, then without warning, burst into tears.

"Hermione!

"I-I just-"she sobbed, hiding her face in his bed sheets, "we were so worried…we didn't know what had happened-we thought you were-"

"Let's not get into that," said Mrs. Weasley hastily. "He's alive, and that's what matters. But what happened, dear?"

"Well, he touched the stone, or whatever it was," said Ron, before Harry could speak, "and then he started glowing. It was weird-as if the glow was coming from Harry and not the stone. Then, the next thing we knew, he passed out. He was like that for ages-we didn't know what to do-but we couldn't leave him, either."

"What happened, Harry?" asked Hermione anxiously, cutting across Ron's rant. She was still sniffling, but not crying anymore.

Harry didn't know what to say, or whether or not he wanted to tell them all. For the sake of stalling, he cleared his throat and mumbled… "I don't really know."

"All right, all right, clear off!" came a loud, bossy voice from the door. Harry turned his head to see Madame Pomfrey hurrying into the room, carrying a large tray laden with medicines. Ron and Hermione smirked slightly at the look on Harry's face. She brought the tray to his bedside and lifted a spoon. "Open up, Mr. Potter. I haven't got all day."

Harry made to get up and protest that he could feed himself, but as soon as he tried, his arms folded from beneath him. Ron and Hermione hurried to catch him. "Why-why am I so weak?" he coughed, his voice hoarse.

"Well, that's what we are trying to find out!" said Madame Pomfrey, attempting to shove the medicine into his mouth, but he twisted his face away from her. Finally she managed to get the spoon past his lips and Harry felt the syrupy taste of medicine slide down his throat. "You are showing signs of magical exhaustion-it could be that the object temporarily depleted you of your powers, but I do not know for sure. Now open up!" she commanded harshly. Reluctantly he did so, allowing her to spoon tablespoon after tablespoon of nasty tasting medicine into his mouth. Finally she vanished the spoon and the medicines with a wave of her wand, but not before giving him a stern look. "Bed rest, Mr. Potter. The rest of you, make sure he does not move one inch from this bed!" Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys nodded their agreement and fixed their children with stern looks. "You heard her. Don't exhaust him."

The Weasleys and Hermione nodded their agreement, and Harry knew that there was little chance he would be getting out of bed soon.

"Mum," said Ron suddenly, turning to face her, "I think Harry wants to chat with me and  
Hermione. And no," he said quickly, once she opened her mouth, "we wont let him out of bed, promise."

Mrs. Weasley eyed him suspiciously, but she agreed and lead the others out the door. It closed with a snap behind her.

"So, Harry," started Ron, the second her footsteps died away, "Spill it."

"Spill what?" asked Harry.

"You know what I mean!" exclaimed Ron, standing up in agitation. "D'you really expect us to believe that _I don't know_ rubbish?"

"Ron!" said Hermione angrily. "Be nice to him!"

"I was waiting until they were gone," said Harry truthfully.

"Tell us, Harry," said Hermione, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

"Well," started Harry nervously, hoping that they wouldn't take him for a nutter, "when I touched the stone, it transported me to a place. There were a lot of strange people there…they weren't human…and they had a leader." He swallowed.

"Who was it?" asked Hermione, but from the look on her face she already knew.

"My mother," said Harry softly. "she was their leader. She told me I was a Bearer, the protector of the Wizarding world. She said Voldemort was a Wielder. She talked about others, Protectors and Receivers, but she didn't explain much about them. We have powers that come into play when the world is in danger. Dumbledore was my Protector. She said it was my job to bear the burden of protecting the world…"

Harry stiffened, the memories of the previous night bearing down on him. Now he had another burden. Hermione sat down on his bed and put her arms around him, rubbing his back in circles. Ron sat down next to him and stared out the window, apparently lost in thought. The stars reflected in Ron's eyes were watery.

"It's alright, Harry," said Hermione, although her voice was trembling. "We'll help you get through this…"

"I saw your deaths" Harry whispered. "I saw the consequences if I failed. You died, fighting, alone, by each other's side. How can I live knowing that will happen if I fail? I cant do this. I cant" he sobbed, bringing his head down on Hermione's shoulder.

"We're with you, Harry," Hermione whispered, and Ron nodded, although he did not bring his head from the starry sky. "Wherever you go, when you need us…we're with you."

Harry nodded. Knowing that they did not think him a object and they cared about him was protection enough from going insane.

"Ron?" asked Hermione, tapping him gently on the shoulder and Ron turned, his eyes haunted and dark. Harry could still see small pools of water trembling in them as he faced Hermione.

"I-I just was wondering-whether things will ever be the same again."

"Don't worry, Ron," said Harry quietly. "They will be. I promise."

His friend nodded, and then unexpectantly, a grin a great deal like Fred and George's lit up his face. "So, what's that power of yours, Harry? Can you turn invisible, or shoot fire from your hands, or maybe fly?" Ron grinned evilly and flapped his arms like a overlarge bird. "Look at me! I'm Harry Potter, flying!"

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry scowled good-naturally, and Hermione threw a pillow at Ron for him. In his heart he was glad Ron was making light of things-he didn't think he could survive if they didn't.

A half an hour flew by, Hermione getting beat terribly at chess by Ron, and then playing 20 questions. (Hermione won that round.) They were interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Harry's heart sank. Madame Pomfrey was once more bustling into the room, a tray of medicine in her hands.

"He needs sleep! You've had too much time already! LEAVE!"

Harry was sad to see them go, but in truth his head was beginning to grow heavy and his eyelids were slowly sagging. He watched them clear the chessboard and stand up.

"Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, leaning over and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"See you, mate," said Ron a bit sadly, and they both left, leaving Harry alone with Madame Pomfrey.

10 doses of medicine and a dozen complaints later, Harry was alone once again with only his throbbing headache for company. He still could barley move. Every limb in his body felt tired and sore. Yawning, he closed his eyes and went to sleep. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked nine.

Ten…

Eleven…

BONG! The chiming of the bell startled him awake, and Harry sat up the best he could in his present state. Only the moon lit his room, throwing eerie shadows across the floor. His fear vanished on the spot when located the source of the noise, merely the chiming of the grandfather clock in the corner. _Stupid clock,_ thought Harry. He yawned and sank back onto the pillow, his eyes already drooping.

As he laid his head back onto his pillow unexplained terror filled Harry. A BANG sent his eyes flying for the source of the noise, which was defiantly not the grandfather clock. Harry sat bolt upright, staring at Ron's window.

His view of the night sky was blocked by a large obscure object. Harry brought his glasses up to his face and felt his heart stop mid-beat. Visible by only the cold moonlight spilling onto Ron's windowsill, sitting there with a wicked, evil grin plastered on his face, was none other than Lord Voldemort himself.

A/N: yes, it's a cliffy I know. Review and I will update! Please give me some reviews! Please please please please please

Many thanks to CalicoJacksFortune and kiwidynamite for reviewing!


End file.
